


Vindication of the Rights of Man

by pr_squared



Category: A Brother's Price - Wen Spencer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Queen Lylia argues for men's rights





	

              

Sister Queen Lylia leaned back against the overstuffed pillows and held up her draft to see it better in the flickering candle light.  “Listen to this, Jerin! “A Vindication of the Rights of Man,” she began. She took pride in her penmanship.  She had worked on her essay for weeks, draft after draft.  She ordered and reordered her paragraphs, polished her sentences, and chose her words carefully.  She was quite proud of the result.  Everyone said that men cared only for dressing well and looking pretty, personal grooming, rather than personal development.  Nurture, not nature, she argued.  Given the chance, men might contribute to society outside the kitchen and the nursery.  “Listen!” She insisted.

                She looked down the bed at Jerin.  He was naked.  Where was his night shirt? He didn’t seem to be listening at all.  The great toe of her left foot was in his mouth and he was doing something distracting with his tongue. Lylia found herself losing her focus.   “Jerin, just listen,” she sighed.  He looked up and smiled but he didn’t stop.  Maybe it will be better afterwards, she allowed and surrendered to the inevitable.

                Afterwards, she sat astride his hips, their naked bodies pressed together, and sighed.  She held his face between her hands, lowered her head and kissed him fully on his lips.  He sighed.  She placed her hands on his strong chest.  His skin was warm with a faint sheen of perspiration.  She ground herself against him and savored the delicious aftershocks of pleasure.  She touched the place where their bodies joined and felt him softening inside her.  After a few minutes, the sensations ceased.  She turned her head and searched for her writings, now scattered on the bed beside them.

                She gathered them up, keeping her seat.  Once again, she held them up in the flickering candle light as if to read her words, the words that she had written and rewritten until she had truly committed them to memory.  “Listen, Jerin.  Just listen now.” 

She glanced down.  Jerin was sound asleep.  She was tired too and stretched out atop her husband’s warm body.  She pulled the blankets over them both.  She rested her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and listened to his heart beat. I’ll try again in the morning, she thought as she too fell asleep.

She didn’t do much better in the morning either.  She loved to wash Jerin’s long thick hair.  As luscious as it was, long hair certainly wasn't very practical.  In the bath, Jerin knelt between her thighs and did what he seemed to love to do.  She slipped and almost fell, steadying herself on Jerin’s strong shoulders.  Now that five of her baby sisters had come of age, two weeks would pass before her next turn in Jerin’s bed.  Tonight belonged to Regina.

 

She tried again at breakfast.  Her sister queens listened politely enough though she detected no pause in their repast.  Platters of pancakes, eggs, bacon, fruit and pastry passed from hand to hand.  Bowls of oatmeal and pitchers of cream made the rounds.  Knives and forks clanked against plates but no one spoke and interrupted her before she had finished.

“Wow,” offered Rensselaer, the Queen Eldest.  “You’ve a real way with words.  Can someone pass the jam, please?”

“What do you think?” asked Lylia in earnest. “Tell me.”

“Boys have uses outside the kitchen and nursery?” scoffed Emilia.

“Men, not boys,” Damaris corrected her in a mock serious voice.   Everyone laughed. 

“Yes, not just the kitchen and nursery.  Men have their uses in the bedroom,” Regina allowed. “And out of the bedroom.”  She remembered her afternoon ride and picnic with Lucien.  Their horses had not been the only ones ridden. 

“Either on top or on the bottom.” Damaris quipped

“Either supine or prone,” Lylia simply could not help herself and the room erupted in laughter. Her diverse interests were no secret to her royal sisters.  “Besides the bedroom,” she insisted after the laughter had died down.  “A man can be a shoemaker, a soldier, or a scholar.”    Jerin just loved to read, though his interests focused quite narrowly on romances.

“A man can be anything,” Trina seemed to agree. “But why would he want to? A man need not work.  He need only care for his children, wear nice clothes, and keep himself pretty.” 

“Lylia, how many real boys do you actually know?” Halley asked. "Outside your books."

“Men,” Lylia corrected her by reflex and then she thought.  She certainly knew her cousin Edmund Moorhead.  She knew her husband Jerin, and then she knew their Lucien.  Three.  Husbands and sons were secluded in the hearts of their families.  Would she allow her husband to go about with no escort?  Would she want her sweet sons in classrooms with clever girls who schemed to take advantage of their trusting natures and boast to each other of their conquests?

Just then Jerin appeared, smiling.  His thick long hair was braided.  He wore a tailored morning robe that almost reached his knees and displayed his broad shoulders and narrow waist to good effect.  The fragrance of his blueberry scones filled the room.  “Good morning,” he said brightly.  Heads turned.  On one arm, he carried Eleanora, Emilia’s daughter. In his other hand, he held a tray of blueberry scones.  “Baked them myself,” he boasted as he passed around the table sharing them with his sister wives.

Little Eleanora reached out and Janetta took her eagerly.  She cuddled the infant for a moment then passed her along to Emilia, her birth mother. 

Jerin continued his circuit.   He stopped between Lylia and Regina.  He put one scone on Lylia’s plate and one on Regina’s plate.

Regina seized the moment.  She slipped her hand under Jerin’s robe and slid up the back of his bare thigh.  His skin was invitingly warm to her touch.  She touched his ass.  He fought not to show any outward response to her gentle assault. She swore felt him tremble though, when she pushed her fingers between his thighs and touched his ball sac.

“Jerin, dear,” Emilia called.  “Come take Eleanora.  She just won’t let me eat.    I have to finish breakfast and get to my work.

“Yes, right away,” Jerin slipped quickly away, eager to escape Regina’s mischievous fingers.

Damaris turned to Regina.  She had seen exactly what her sister had done.

Regina held up her hand and sniffed her fingers.  All knew that today was her turn with Jerin.  “He is naked underneath, stark naked.” she whispered to Damaris. 

“The slut!” Damaris mouthed the unspoken words and smiled.  Tomorrow was her night. 

 

Regina smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mary Wollstonecraft wrote "A Vindication of the Rights of Women" in 1792. She had written "A Vindication of the Rights of Men" two years before.


End file.
